Guilty Pleasures
by riverknowshisname
Summary: Katniss walks in on Madge's older brother Peeta getting out of the shower.
1. Chapter 1

_**This is a lovely compilation by myself and my dear friend mrsbonniemellark, we hope you enjoy!**_

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"Madge?" I lean down from the bed to where she is sitting on the floor, reading up on the Constitution for government class. "Can I use your bathroom?" I ask.

"Of course!" she nods, maintaining her focus on the screen of her laptop. "It's just at the end of the hall." She pauses the movie-neither of us is really watching, it's just good background noise - and lays back against her bed, checking her phone for text messages.

I walk down the hall silently, not wanting to wake her parents. I turn the knob on the door Madge described and push it open.

The sight of Peeta, Madge's older brother, naked and just getting out of the shower stops me in my tracks. "Oh!" I gasp. "I'm sorry! I didn't-"

He grabs his towel off the rack and wraps it around himself but not before I have the chance to take in the view. I've never really noticed him before, but in the past he's always been fully clothed. "It's ok," he assures me. He's smiling now, amused.

My cheeks warm and I don't need to look in the mirror to know that I'm blushing.

"Did you need to use the bathroom? I'm done in here," he says.

"Ye-yeah," I stammer. I'm mesmerized by the droplets of water on his toned chest, sliding down, down, down.

"Katniss?" He asks. I realize I'm still blocking the doorway and quickly move out of the way.

"Sorry," I say again.

"It's quite alright," Peeta says, laughing as he leaves.

Once back in Madge's room, seated next to her on the floor, I struggle with how to tell her about what just transpired. "Hey...Madge?"

"Yeah?" She looks up from her laptop.

"I um...sort of saw your brother naked." Realizing that that's probably not the best way to start, I rush to explain. "I didn't mean to! I just walked in and he was getting out of the shower and-" I stop.

She stares at me, mouth agape. "Okay…" A moment of awkwardness settles around us as she looks around the room. "How does that make you feel?"

"What?"

"Well you didn't _have_ to tell me," she grins. "So it must have made you think or feel something."

"What? Of course I had to tell you! I just saw your brother naked!" I'm blushing again as images of Peeta's body flash through my head and I shake it to clear it.

"Come on, Katniss," she tilts her head slightly to the side. "I've seen the way that you look at him when you think I'm not paying attention. So it must have evoked some sort of emotion from you."

"I don't know what you're talking about," I say. Which, of course, is a lie. And I know she knows it.

"Right," she winks at me. "Of course you don't insist we go to all of his wrestling matches. We always go to the after parties. You don't even go to them if he isn't going to be there. I'm _sure_ you have a notebook somewhere with his name on it." She giggles. "Not to mention, you talk about him in your sleep."

"He's your brother!" I throw my hands up in exasperation. "Of course I think we should go to his wrestling matches. We need to show him our support. And I don't know what you've heard me say in my sleep, but I've also been known to order sandwiches with mustard in my sleep and I don't even like mustard, so that doesn't mean anything."

"Well, I've never really cared much for wrestling," she shrugs indifferently. "And you say his name on occasion. Far be it from me to remember any of it when I'm just trying to get to sleep. But one night you were - well I don't know what you were doing - but you just said, 'Peeta, will you stay with me?'" She smiles as if remembering a moment lost in time. "I never heard a response, so I assumed it was a dream."

Ignoring my embarrassment that I spoke aloud a moment from my most private dream of Peeta in front of her, I push on. "I also say Chris Evans and Nicolas Cage's names in my sleep. And caring about wrestling isn't the point of going, caring about _Peeta_ is the point."

"Come on, Katniss," she stares in annoyance. "I _know_ he's my brother. But you're my _best friend_ , I think you owe it to me." She pauses for a moment. "Well if not to me, then to yourself. And Chris Evans is _perfectly_ okay to dream about. Nicolas Cage, however, is kinda weird."

"Well, duh," I say. "That's the point. I say weird things in my sleep that don't mean _anything_ ," I say, putting far too much emphasis on _anything._

" _Well_ if that's true," she glowers at me. "Then why were you blushing when you came to tell me about it?"

"Because it's embarrassing! I'd be blushing if I'd walked in on your dad naked too, and I'm definitely not interested in _him_."

"Well, that's one way to take your argument…" she stares dumbfounded.

"Whatever," I say. "I'm not into him, no matter what you think."

"Okay Katniss," she shakes her head. "Whatever you're not saying is what I'm believing."

"And what exactly are you hearing that I'm not saying?" I glare at her. "That I dream about him all the time? That I imagine my name with his last name and scribble it down in secret notebooks? That I want to marry him and have his children?"

"Aww!" she exclaims. "But you would have the cutest kids!" She hops up and down before noticing my facial expression. "But," she clears her throat, "in answer to your questions. I never said anything about marriage. I just asked you how you feel. Though that kind of says a lot on it's own."

"Whatever, Madge. It's getting late. We should finish our government homework and then I should be getting home."

"Well whatever, Katniss," she shrugs and looks back down at her laptop. "Just keep lying to yourself."

The rest of our studying goes by silently with the occasional check for correct information from the textbook. When we've jointly agreed that we've learned all we can from the assignment I resign to leave. Gathering my things I shove them all into my green backpack, hoist it onto my shoulder and make my way from her room with a casual "bye, see you tomorrow." There is a door located at the bottom of the staircase and once I've made it through I'm brought face to face with Peeta. His blue eyes staring at me, staring as if they could see deep inside me, far into my soul. No one has eyes quite like his. They are the most beautiful shade of blue I have ever seen.

"Hey Katniss," he smiles. "Walked in on anyone in the bathroom lately?"  
"No...just you," I say, immediately turning bright red.

"Is that a promise?" he winks, and I'm not sure if he's joking or actually winking.

"Yeah. Well, I'm heading out. So, I guess I'll see you later," I say.

"How's the homework coming?" he asks. "Mr. Abernathy is very picky. I remember being in his class. He hates government though, so I have no idea why he's even teaching that class." He steps in front of me, blocking my escape.

"You know," I find myself saying, "I wonder about that. Did he start off hating teaching or at some point did he actually love it and his students?"

"That's a good question," he shakes his head and smiles. "But whatever the case he sure seems less than thrilled with us all now."

"Yeah, he's definitely counting down the days until retirement."

"How old do you think he is anyway? I mean he can't possibly be older than 40, maybe 45. What's left him so jaded?" then he leans in close to my face. "Maybe he was in love with one of the other teachers, but she broke his heart and now he has to teach one of her kids in his class." Then he stands back up, throws his head back, and laughs. "Maybe that's why he hates you guys so much."

"Right. He's definitely Severus Snape. It was probably Mrs. Trinket too," I say with a smile. "Of course, that couldn't possibly be true, they hate each other."

"Or maybe that's just what they _want_ you to think," he looks around at no one. "Or do you think it's more complicated than that? Ooh, the conspiracy!"

"True. Who else do you think it could be though?"

"Maybe it's not even a woman at all!" he chortles. "Maybe it's Principal Thread!"

"Oh gross! He's so old and scary looking," I shudder.

"Maybe he likes them old and scary looking," he shakes his head. "Or maybe he just hates kids. That's always possible."

"I think he just hates people in general."

"Yeah, that's probably true," he shrugs. "Either way, good luck on that paper. It's getting dark so I probably shouldn't keep you. I'll walk you to your car though, if you want...no pressure."

"Um...yeah. Sure, thanks," I say. "It's just right outside." We walk there quietly, then suddenly and without warning an avalanche of images of Peeta's naked body flow through my mind as I relive our moment in the bathroom: his perfectly sculpted chest, tight abs, manhood - which was quite impressive if I do say so myself, though I haven't seen any before so I'm not exactly an expert on the topic-and perfectly toned bare ass as he put his towel on.

As we reach the already unlocked car, Peeta leans in close to me and whispers quietly, "Next time you want to see me naked, just ask." Then with a wink he turns and goes back to the house, leaving me standing there stuck in a whirlwind of confusion and a slight acknowledgement that perhaps Madge is right. Maybe there is something to my blushing.


	2. Chapter 2

"Want to go see the new Marvel movie this weekend?" Madge asks me at lunch the next week.

"Um…" I mentally check my schedule, "Sure." I haven't quite decided on whether I'm up for another fangirl weekend when she continues.

"Ok, great. Is it okay if Peeta comes with us?" She asks. Why am I surprised? He's gone with us to movies in the past, so why should it bother me so much right now. Perhaps it's because I still haven't recovered from my seeing him au naturel. Then again I'm still trying to process what he said at the car the other night. He gave me an invitation? To what? See him nude? Watch him get out of the shower at length? What exactly had he meant by that?

"Peeta wants to see it with us? What about Finnick?"

"He just got a new girlfriend, so he's been spending all his time with her." She looks at me quizzically. "To be fair, you're kind of the _second_ one asked here. I hazarded an invitation to Peeta first."

"Well, it's nice to be even an afterthought," I joked.

"Anytime," she says with a wink.

Before I know it, the weekend is here. Madge picks me up from work at Panem Cafe- where I'm a barista- and we head straight for the theater. We talk about the actors in the movie, about which one will have his shirt off the most, we agree it doesn't matter. They're all beautiful. The less clothes the better.

Then Peeta shows up.

"Hey girls," he steps up to us uninhibited.

"Hey, Peeta," I say. I try not to think about how this is the first time I'm seeing him since that night at their house.

"Oh crap!" exclaims Madge upon looking at her phone.

"What?" I ask her, concerned.

"I just realized that I have this massive paper due tomorrow!" she squeals. "Annie and I are going to be _so_ screwed if I don't get over there right now. We _cannot_ afford to fail Chemistry. We're already barely scraping by as it is!" she glances between the two of us. "Peeta can take you home," then she spins on her heel and disappears, but not before hollering over her shoulder to me, "you spoil anything Everdeen and you're dead!"

I look awkwardly at Peeta, realizing that we've totally been set up. This was her plan all along.

"Well, I still want to see the movie," he quips. "With or without my sister . . . preferably not alone."

"Sure. Why not?" I say with a shrug.

"Yeah," he chuckles. "Why not?"

We get in line to buy our tickets behind a group of young teens who appear to be on a group date. I feel the awkwardness between the two of us grow as we silently stand behind them and try not to stare at their ridiculous looking group. They're decked out in Avengers cosplay. Kind of wishing I had done that.

Finally, the ticket window opens up and I gesture Peeta forward.

"Two tickets to _Black Widow_ please," he smiles at the woman behind the glass who is all too eager to help the boy with blond hair and brilliant blue eyes out. She tells him the price and he hands over a couple of twenty dollar bills. I'm still trying to process whether or not this is turning into a date or not when he smiles and says, "you can get the popcorn."

"Deal," I smile.

Peeta gets his change from the cashier and we head over to the concessions counter together. I order the number two deal: two large drinks and a large popcorn. Can't see a movie without popcorn. After filling our drinks and adding a little extra butter to the popcorn, we take our seats. The theater is crowded so we end up in the middle-ish part of a row stuck between two couples. That wasn't planned, but I guess that's our lot this time.

"So...you've seen all the other Marvel movies?" I ask.

"Absolutely! How can anyone not?" he says excitedly.

"I know, right?" I accidentally shout.

"Well, we ain't all got money flowing out of our ears, brainless," says a young-ish woman three rows down in a patronizing tone. I just about think I know who it is when the lights go down.

I have to say, Peeta is the ideal person to watch a movie with. We laugh together at all the right moments. He whispers things that the movie has reminded him of in my ear, but never when the characters are talking on-screen. And he holds the popcorn in his lap so I don't have to.

About fifteen minutes into the movie, Peeta and I blindly reach for the popcorn at the same time and our hands brush. I immediately start to pull back, embarrassed, but Peeta grabs my hand in his, entwining our fingers. At first, all I can think is that I still want more popcorn and that he has to be noticing how my hand is covered in butter and salt. But then, I feel a kind of electric current run through me and I can feel every place his hand touches mine. Every grain of salt between our clasped hands.

Paying attention to the movie is harder after that. Especially when Peeta's thumb strokes the back of my hand. At one point, his hand leaves mine so he can trace circles on the inside of my wrist and a shiver runs through me.

"Is this ok?" Peeta whispers in my ear.

"Yeah, I-I like it," I whisper back, hoping it's too dark to see the blush on my cheeks.  
"Good," he says with a smirk, continuing to gently stroke my wrist.

As something explodes on-screen, I turn his hand over so I can stroke _his_ wrist. I trace the path of the veins there, following the twists and turns halfway to his elbow before returning to his wrist to trace circles the way Peeta did before.

I entwine our fingers together again once I'm satisfied and Peeta gives my hand a squeeze. I squeeze back.

Our hands remain clasped for the duration of the movie, and when the credits roll I resolve to ask Prim to see it again with me, since I remember nothing after the first fifteen minutes.

I extract my hand from Peeta's, gathering my purse and picking up our trash.

As we walk out of the theater, I start to think about the implications of what we just did, about Madge, about what could happen next, and I decide I need to get out of here.

Peeta and I make small talk about the movie as we walk to the parking lot. I watch a bus I know stops right by my house let its passengers off and the line of people in front of it slowly get on.

"So, Katniss...I had fun tonight," Peeta says.

"I did too," I say, looking at my shoes.

"Maybe...we could do it again sometime? Like a date?" He smiles shyly at me.

"I-I don't know if that's...such a good idea. See you later, Peeta." And I get on the bus just as the doors shut, trying not to look out the window at Peeta, and failing miserably.


End file.
